summer time

last week on my walk home from the library I was admiring the storm clouds gathering above, and the way that there were stacking up in sky, reminded me of this painting.

am just now realizing that writing down the names & artists of my photographed paintings would have been a good idea.

saturday we were invited to dinner. we enjoyed a spread of summer-inspired foods. and then managed two rounds of croquet as we drank gin with limes & lemons, lemonade & tonic. as it grew dark the clouds over the mountains began to rain. we laughed a lot as we played. 

 we have a hummingbird that seems to like the pink, peppermint ivy geranium that hangs outside our living room window. hummingbirds can't be photographed. but geraniums can.

last night we threw a homemade pizza on the grill. it turned the crust magically crisp & bubbled the cheese. we had a friend visiting from los angeles. and we chatted as the summer day grew dark & cool.

we are finally having the kind of hot days which I associate with summer. they are not the kansas-kind, but enough to make me sweat.

a green walk, las fiestas and dinner with friends

last sunday we took a walk where it is cool & green.
this time it was at Columbine Canyon, though all the columbine have bloomed. there were plenty of pink raspberries not quite yet ripe, purple bee balm, elegantly tall white aspens and orange butterflies.

back in Taos the town was having its last day of Fiestas. I'd visited the day before to get my fix of cheap goods from Mexico being sold not-cheaply, the smell of funnel cakes, burritos, and sweet & sour lemonade, and plenty of sightings of little girls in brightly colored dresses & flowers in their hair. watched a group of kids do a spanish-style dance. listened to some mariachi music. almost bought a bright orange t-shirt that said, "que vivan las fiestas de taos". but when am I going to wear bright orange?

some of the cherry tomatoes from the backyard. I hope the heat of the day will be enough to ripen these, as the nights get so cool.

last night we visited friends in Sunshine Valley. they have a valley view of mountains all around. the view was so unexpected and impressive, that when we drove into the valley, a "wow" left my lips.

and they've recently had a rattlesnake in the yard. so we wore our boots. ate homemade veggie burgers & played a game of horseshoes. put on my flannel shirt to keep warm, & reminded myself that I'm lucky to feel chilly in late July. a storm of lightning lit up the northern sky. bats flew up in the trees. they are growing tomatoes too, but have little hope the tomatoes will ripen up, as the nights get even colder up there.

tonight I'm making pesto.
and tomorrow I get to see what is being harvested at the farmer's market. lately have been enjoying crisp, crunchy cucumbers and sweet peaches. 

summer sweets

sweet little yellow tomatoes from the farmer's market.

thank you summer.

visitors at sacred shrine.

willard clark.

july weekend

friday evening we visited the Taos Pueblo for the annual Powwow.

photography on the Pueblo isn't encouraged, and I am never comfortable taking pictures of religious, personal ceremony. so I have no pictures.

our visit was just in time for the Grand Entry, the opening procession of all the dancers from all the tribes. in outfits beautifully detailed in feathers, beadwork and embroidery, they entered the dance circle to the mournful sound of the slowly beaten drums and danced or simply walked stoically tall around. the amount of historical reverence & cultural pride was an emotional thing to see & feel overall, it was one of the most incredible things I've ever witnessed both spiritually & visually.



















visited the Harwood Museum yesterday. and took pictures of the pictures. of how the different artists of Taos saw their northern new mexico home around them.

it got me thinking about how I'm seeing what is around me. and though I'm not a painter, how will I begin to portray this home around me?

I left some of my confidence in Kansas. I only just realized this over the weekend. And I feel better, because now I know I need to get it back...and that's just a matter of embracing something I'd forgotten to unpack.

thy woods and templed hills

it took some driving to find the spot. but we found this gentle open meadow. a quiet spot next to the rio chiquito. our holiday plan was to enjoy a picnic & have a little walk.

these rusty orange butterflies were everywhere in the brush.

and it was near here, d. told me, that he last saw a bear. which of course, made me nervous. but of course my experience with wildlife in the actual wild, is limited to the occasional possum in my kansas backyard.

but where there is wildness, there is beauty. and we had a nice walk.

here now the clouds have darkened and the wind cooled off, as if it may rain. a woman just walked by wearing a bright pink scarf thrown over her shoulders. the neighbors down the street are having a party in the courtyard & I can hear them playing one of the spanish-language radio stations. and I've been thinking about all the writing I used to do. and all the writing I used to plan on always doing.

cactus pink

the cactus in the backyard surprised us by blooming.

in the desert of dusty browns & faded greens, nature makes sure we remember bright, happy color.

the People

I woke up yesterday feeling the tears.
it was just the sadness of not holding their little hands as we walk to lunch.
or the effortless act of meeting a friend for a drink.
of not having to try so hard to make someplace feel familiar.

and then after I cried, I felt better.

as a part of the Taos Indian emergence myth, it is believed that Pueblo community began after many different groups of people finally gathered together from places far away. The groups that came together were the Feather people, Shell people, Water people, Big-Earring people, Knife people, Sun people, Old Axe people, Big Parrot Feather people, Lightning people and the Day people.

So, I'm just another people...A Kansas people, a Wheat-field people, a Great Plains people, or just a To-The-Stars-With-Difficulty people... that has come here to find a community. And if I can just be patient, I will find it too.

new weekends

knowing that as I feel homesick, I must keep myself learning about this, my new home.
visited the farmer's market on saturday. a nice walk from the house which along the way takes me by a valley full of lazy, grazing cows.
bought these plump, tart, mouth-puckering cherries.  they may become some refrigerator jam. or some syrup for gin cocktails.

also bought some just-pink radishes. snap peas. potatoes and even a dozen fresh eggs, all brown & freckled.

then I stopped by the library book sale. even more fun than the market. but I could only buy as much as I could carry on the walk home, along with my carton of eggs & bag full of produce.

but picked up a few local publications from the 1970s. all of which will contain stories and things to learn about my new home.

and I do find some comfort in living "in town" yet hearing roosters crow, cows moo, horses clomping by & occasionally coyotes howl.

and I enjoy watching how the clouds pile up above the mountains. and how the strong warm breezes feel the same as those at home.

today, knowing my heart was full of missing my kansas loves, my boyfriend roused himself out of a lazy Sunday morning, and walked to the Plaza for breakfast and a stop at the bookstore.

when he puts his arm over my shoulders as we walk, I feel within me all my reasons for moving here.

little notes

sometimes the clouds roll over from the mountains and only look like they will rain.
these actually did, in a flash of a flooding downpour.
it was amazing to watch from my large living room window.

being homesick is a powerful thing.
feeling that way while also happy is a bit confusing.
or maybe, comforting.
and the lovely little notes I get in the mail from the 4 & 6 yr-old are pretty awesome too. 

when d. dug up a new flower bed for us this is part of the treasure we found.

though the horseshoe I want up over our door is one I found in kansas on an abandoned farmstead. it is a bit bigger and heavier. and it is, I like to think, kansas-forged. 

saints waiting for a spot in the yard

I feel like a fool for not understanding the spanish I hear around me, every day & every where. I took all the classes. I even got good grades. but it has melted away, much like, I suppose, all the math I took too. time to learn once more.

we are learning our new place. new bugs, new dirt and new people. it is possible the cat is adjusting better than I am. as she has discovered a field of grasshoppers & butterflies in the backyard.

but this is part of adventure. exploring the new means leaving some old behind.

learning to live on new soil

a sunny bedroom window

most of the boxes are gone. and the routine of the day has begun to settle.

 one of the first things we planted, is now blooming. this orange-pink-glowing coneflower.


I can tell I'm away from people I love to see, but at the same time, I'm now getting to see one of those people every morning & night.

our old beat-up floor

as I drove myself to the grocery store (the one that seems remarkably like Dillons, but is called Smiths) I thought, this is what I knew I'd be doing one day. driving myself to the store in Taos. and here I am. living that past, present & future.

yesterday we decided to try and grow green chilies & cilantro too.

and as I watch these plants grow, not knowing what the soil is like, or how the cold nights & warm days will affect them, or even understanding what nutrients they need here or just how much I should be watering them, I'm very aware that I'm learning all of this about myself too.

a walk

took a sunday afternoon walk on the canyoncito trail.
lush & green, runs along next to the rio pueblo, as well as a fence which marks off the pueblo reservation land.

tiny wild strawberries in bloom.

red columbine, an amazing burst of color in the landscape of forest greens & browns.

aspens along the trail.

new outdoors

back porch

the past few days involved loading up a big truck, saying goodbye to a good home, driving nine hours in gusty winds, unloading a big truck, cleaning & unpacking in a new home. they also involved digging new holes, adding good dirt & planting wonderful new plants.

we've planted morning glories to grow up the side of the old chicken coop. also in the ground now are varieties of lavender & salvia which I'd never seen, purple coneflower which I brought from kansas, and some zinnias & snapdragons. I plant things knowing that I'll probably have trial & error in this new landscape of the high desert.

the big back yard

but trial & error is what new chapters & new big steps are all about. we've both been working hard to create this new home for ourselves. and tonight we are planning to enjoy our backyard with some meat & veggies on the grill.

calmer

starting to feel a calm sense & realization of time.
that I just don't have much packing left to worry about.
that my best friend came over yesterday to help "clean" and immediately told me there wasn't actually much to do.
that things are being sorted & given away & finding their places.
that my boyfriend will be here soon to help me on the next part of the journey.
and that turning 40 may not be much of a big deal anyway.

guilt

guilt for not noticing sooner that my Libby was injured.
a bite to the paw, leading to a high fever. and now a wrapped up leg. and daily medicine. and another check up next week.

guilt for not being more sad to be moving away. for being excited to see what moving away means for me.

guilt for leaving my brother & his children.
for putting nine hours between me & my whole family.

guilt for getting rid of things which other people gave me.

guilt for not having time to see everyone.

guilt for wanting to skip all the good-byes anyway.

guilt for my accumulation of stuff.

guilt for all the trash I've created.

guilt for forcing my boyfriend to live with a cat, and for forcing my cat to spend nine hours in a car.

today in the vet's office, as libby lashed out in pain as they tried to clean up her wound. i felt that familiar feeling, that I was about to faint. that I was probably turning green. and I needed to sit down, and just breathe. it is all beginning to hit me now. the whirlwind tornado of emotions.

and I know everything I'm feeling is okay.

and I'm just reminding myself that with every step & worry I just need to remember to breathe.

every sha-la-la-la

my two favorite visitors came over yesterday.
with happy meals & toys in hand, and some stories to tell.
after a walk around the neighborhood, and some porch swing time, it was time to play records.
the six-yr old requested some "lullabies"
and the closest thing I could find was my Carpenters album.
and then my two favorite visitors did some dancing in the sun room.

and I've had "every sha-la-la-la" in my head all morning long.

may day limbo

people who know me well, know well that I do poorly with uncertainty & limbo in my life. I prefer deadlines, time frames and clearly defined expectations.

and though in the past years I've worked hard at allowing myself to just accept that all is uncertain and stressing out about what can't be controlled is fairly useless...but it is a definite reason why I rarely move, and I've never moved away from Kansas.

having my house for sale, planning to move. these are things that are challenging for me, but I know I will feel like a stronger person for doing them. in the meantime, my stomach is generally nauseous and my dreams are restless. and my house is clean.

those that know also understand that in times of great anxiety, I clean & I organize. my house is so very pretty right now.

and though having to leave my home so that complete strangers can walk through it is not something I can get used to. I do like having a reason to cut flowers to decorate my house.

a concrete step

over the years, the corner of my porch steps crumbled away. it got bigger & bigger, and eventually the railing had nothing to bolt onto...and just hung there in thin air.
it bugged me. all of the time. it seemed disgraceful. like it reflected my ability to care for my home. but I figured someone else would have to fix it for me. cause, it was concrete...

and I asked the men in my life, how do we fix it? I was told it would be pretty easy, it would be a small job, probably too small to hire someone to do, a form would have to be built, maybe drill in some rebar, pour the concrete, re-attach the railing. I didn't believe it would be easy enough for me to do without their help.

and I kept getting stuck at "build a form"?

it finally hit me. I was the person who had to fix it. and waiting for someone to have the time to help me was no longer working.

and so I did.

 figured out how to build the form. figured out what tools I'd need. figured out the process.
and it isn't the prettiest.
but it is done. and I think mostly successful.

and it reminds me of all the things I've learned to do & had to do by myself.
get a mortgage.
buy a house.
find a plumber, a heating specialist, an electrician, a chimney sweep.
strip wallpaper.
patch plaster walls.
patch plaster ceilings.
paint all the walls. a few different times.
re-caulk a bathtub.
re-caulk the floor tile.
pay that mortgage each month.

they may seem like little things. but each one was a challenge for me. and I suppose I need to start recognizing that I did them, and I did them well.

I own buckets of tools now that I never thought I would know how to use.

and I'm almost 40 years old. so I'm glad I know I can do this by myself. & I wish I could go back & tell my 20-yr old self that I'd be okay when on my own.
though frankly I'm also so very happy that I'll soon be sharing my challenges with a partner at my side. since damn, I'm almost 40 years old.

and oh, after finishing the step. and starting to clean up & put things away, libby took it upon herself to try out the new step. so all this self-affirmation aside, my favorite part of all of this, libby's paw im-print that greets me when I come home.

waterfall, tornadoes & some snow

with a few afternoon hours left we took a drive up el salto road. the plan was to take a little walk up to a waterfall that occurs only in the Spring.

a smell of pine trees, wet leaves & cool air. and then, from over the top of a large mountain cave, the water falling.

drove back knowing it was near time to check the radar. worried about all the storms predicted to hit my kansas home. as we drove into town, it started to snow.
& all I could really think about were the dark stormy clouds that may be rolling over harvey county.

got home & after watching the weather. and holding our breath. and then calling home. and then exhaling. we went outside to enjoy the snow before dark.

and I realized that moving from home doesn't mean I'll ever stop worrying about tornadoes. and thank goodness my kansas-raised boyfriend can understand.